Harry Potter and the Businessman's Briefcase
by Death Sleepers
Summary: Harry Potter is a Businessman, along with his friends Hermandy Grudger and Ronan Weasle-bee. In the first book of this series about Harry Potter's life at Hackwords, they learn all about things called 'Computers' and 'Mobile Phones!
1. The Boy Who Snitched

The Alternate Universe – a.k.a. Harry Potter and the Businessman's Briefcase

Chapter One - The Boy Who Snitched

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number fourteen, Cluttered Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly deviant. They were the last people you would expect to be involved in anything plain and boring, because they just did not hold with such sagacity.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grubbings, which made cauldrons. He was a lean and skinny man with a long neck and a grizzly beard. Mrs. Dursley was plump and blonde with a little neck and kind eyes. She worked in the Little Moaning Playschool, which looked after little children whilst their magical parents went to work. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley, and in their opinion, there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They did not think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they had not met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she did not have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-noting husband were as unwizardish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbours would say if the Potters arrived on their street. The Dursleys knew the Potters had a son too, and they didn't want Dudley to be mixing with a boy like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on one extravagant Tuesday morning, the day our story starts, there was nothing in Mrs. Dursley's Tea Leaves that suggested something quite so boring would be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley sang the Bulgarian National Quidditch Anthem at the top of his lungs whilst picking out some blue and green striped robes to match his lilac cloak that was hanging downstairs on the cloak-rack.

Mrs. Dursley was already downstairs when he apparated into the kitchen, feeding him Magic-O's with her wand whilst she turned on the radio to listen to Celestina Warbeck on the Breakfast Show. Dudley ate silently, gurgling and blowing little bubbles of milk through his nose.

None of them noticed a large blue van drive past the window.

Mr. Dursley picked up his stack of cauldron order-forms from the mantelpiece and lit a fire quickly before kissing Mrs. Dursley on the cheek and blowing a rather prickly raspberry on Dudley's forehead. The boy squealed in delight and started to pull faces at the spoon that was feeding him. Mr. Dursley then left the house and pulled on his rather large helmet before mounting his motorcycle and launching it into the air. It was at the first traffic lights that Mr. Dursley noticed a man wearing a suit sitting on the park bench. For a second Mr. Dursley didn't realise what he had seen, then he jerked his head around and looked at the man again. How very peculiar it was, watching the man read a newspaper, especially without causing an explosion or at least muttering to himself. Mr. Dursley shook his head. Men don't simply read the newspaper! He supposed the man was probably hiding a spell book behind the paper, or maybe a dangerous animal. Yes, he thought. He was probably trying to act normal so he could conceal a dragon or something. As the motorcycle flew into town, Mr. Dursley was hoping to find his office filled with busy owls and emergency floo-calls where he'd have to sort things out with the cauldron deliveries.

He waved cheerfully at several teenagers on Broomsticks as his motorbike came to a stop outside the little shop in Sapphire Alley. He looked across the street and couldn't help noticing there was a woman wearing a business suit and red striped tie. Mr. Dursley could not stand people who thought dressing strangely was cool. He gave another glance and saw a man, dressed in dungarees check his watch! How absurd, Mr. Dursley thought, wrinkling his nose a little as he packed his motorcycle up and stowed it into his bulging briefcase, that was incidentally decorated with dragon patches and a badge bearing his favourite Quidditch Team's logo, a meat cleaver.

Mr. Dursley entered his shop where they sold Grubbings cauldrons, and placed his lilac cloak on the barking cloak-pegs before strolling into his office. He might have found it harder to concentrate on cauldrons if he had looked outside his window. People in suits and overalls were muttering excitedly to each other, exchanging bits of paper and taking out little black boxes they whispered into in hushed voices. _He _didn't see men in blue uniforms exchanging letters to people then running off. In fact his morning was as unusual as ever, until lunch-break came and he decided to have a stroll and go into Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and treat himself to a pumpkin sorbet. He sat down outside in the bright sun, eating away until he heard some people talking. He looked up to see an old man with a black box squashed to his ear with his shoulder and talking rapidly. He was wearing a trench coat and a round bowler hat, one hand writing things down quickly on a notepad clutched in the other. That's when Mr. Dursley noticed he wasn't holding a quill, but more like a round piece of plastic.

'Potters - yes, their son Harry, right?' the man said in a hurried voice. 'All right, get the Hypnotists there immediately.'

Fear flooded into him as soon as he heard the words. Potters... he was sure their son had been called Harry, but it could have been Harvey. He immediately ran back to the shop and went straight to the fireplace, before suddenly deciding against it. It was best not to worry her this time of the day, he decided. He didn't blame her either, if he'd had a sister like _that _- but all the same, the people in suits...

When the time came for Mr. Dursley to go home after selling a few deals to other wizards, he noticed the man with the newspaper again, still reading. Mr. Dursley cursed him quickly so his newspaper flew out of his hands... and the man _ignored_ him! The nerve, Mr. Dursley thought, for that had been a very good spell. He drove into the driveway, furious, cursing a few letterboxes as he landed.

During dinner that evening, Mrs. Dursley told him all about this new article she'd read about potions, and a new article in the paper about the Quidditch Cup tickets ready to be pre-booked. It was then, when Dudley was safe in his room and Mrs. Dursley was charming a few ornaments to do the washing up, that Mr. Dursley decided to inform his wife of the unusual sights he had seen.

'Petunia, darling, do you know your nephew's name?' he asked timidly. One of the ornaments dropped a plate it was drying in the kitchen.

'It's Harry' she snapped. Mr. Dursley suddenly decided not to tell her after all.

As the Dursleys soon went to sleep, something on the ground was moving. The man who had been reading the newspaper got up and took out a black box. He pressed tiny little buttons on it before placing it against his ear.

'Hello, this Stanley McMonnohawk,' he said. There was a lot of muttering before 'Yes, cut the grid with a locker! Of course you should, you idiot! Where's Brenda?'

'Here, Stanley.' A young woman came out underneath the streetlamp and stared at him through her half-moon glasses. She had black hair tied tightly in a bun, and was wearing a blue suit. There was a crest on it, cannon on one side and a crow on the other, divided by a diagonal line of three corn stacks.

'You're late' Stanley muttered.

'Well, I've been celebrating Harry Potter's achievements. He hacked into Mouldyport's mainframe and corrupted his evil empire. We're now all tax free!'

'But his poor parents... death by Celine Dion's Greatest Hits on loop. The horror' Stanley cried. Brenda fished out a small bar and started to peal off the wrapping.

'Do you want a Mars Bar?' she asked.

'I think I'll miss. All those calories...' tutted Stanley, waving a low-calorie snack bar in her face.

'I'll work out at the School Gym later' said Brenda.

'I don't know how you keep such a toned look' Stanley sighed, pulling at his suit.

'It comes with being newly appointed Headmistress, Professor McMonnohawk'

'Headmistress Brenda Mumblemore... it's catchy' Stanley sighted.

'Why thank you' Brenda smiled.

'My pleasure' Stanley McMonnohawk smiled. There was an awkward silence.

'Right, back to business' Brenda said.

'Yes, well I've been watching the Dursleys all day. They are as Wuggle as you can get! Not a single straight line in their house and fashion mistakes _everywhere!_' They both shuddered.

'They are the only living relatives he has' Professor Mumblemore sighed. 'He has to live here, until he can legally live by himself.'

'The poor soul' Stanley groaned. Brenda shook her head.

'Well, Professor Battygen's estimate came true. We are free from tax and corruption by Mouldyport's empire, for now' she said.

'Don't say that name! It is as if you do not fear the same sleazebag as everyone else. He-Who-Must-Never-Compromise was a truly terrible Corporate Owner' Stanley hissed.

'True, but he has gone for now. You must celebrate with Professor Snappe; I managed to trick him into washing his hair. That was so hilarious' Brenda said, chuckling to herself.

'What about Madgrid? Can you trust such a hacker with Harry?' Professor McMonnohawk said.

'I would trust Madgrid with my hard drive, Stanley' Brenda smiled. McMonnohawk gasped.

'You are a great person, Brenda' Stanley smiled. Brenda looked at her watch. It was an unusual watch with three hands, one moving very quickly, the other just ticking when the first reached the top and the last not moving at all. It must have made sense to Mumblemore because she tutted and said 'Madgrid's late.'

'Not digital?' Stanley pondered, peering at the watch. 'Mine's the latest from Swaps. They've got a new line of holograms ready to be chipped into the system.'

'I prefer the old fashioned kind. You can't get enough of the basics sometimes' Brenda said thoughtfully. Suddenly the streetlamps all shut off at once.

'Finally' Stanley McMonnohawk incensed. Brenda slapped his arm. There was a roaring sound when a huge whirring disc hovered down from above them. Brenda beamed and Stanley scowled.

A large man with rather large eyes and thick sideburns hovered in, his arms wrapped tightly around a small bundle. He was very tall and rather muscular, with black hair. The man was sporting a white coat.

'Madgrid, how nice of you to join us' said Stanley coldly. Madgrid chuckled.

'Minibus Black gave me this 'overcraft. It broke down on the way-' he noticed Stanley's glare '- nothin' ter _frown_ at me for!'

'Yes, quite understandable, Madgrid' Brenda said kindly. She gave him a smile and held her arms out to receive the bundle.

'He's been good all the way here' Madgrid smiled, tears shining in his huge eyes. He passed the bundle over delicately.

'Ah, Harry Potter' Brenda said, smiling at the black-haired baby. A gust blew down the street, ruffling the baby's hair. There, smack-bang in the centre of his forehead was a squiggly line.

'What the heck is _that_?' Stanley grimaced, staring at the odd shape on Harry's brow. 'Is that where He... touched him?'

'I'm afraid so' Brenda sighed, tearing herself away from making crazy faces at the baby, who laughed cutely.

'Can't you do something about it?' Stanley whined.

'Look, Stanley if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all! How can you be so rude to our saviour, and such an adorable baby?' she said, now tickling his nose slightly.

'Sorry' Stanley said, backing away.

'Well, anyway, we'll leave him on the doorstep, ring the doorbell and run like the clappers around the corner' Brenda said, smiling as Harry gurgled.

'Wow, what a great plan!' said Madgrid enthusiastically. Stanley sighed.

'How will everything be explained?' he asked, poking at Harry's hairline.

'In a letter' Brenda said casually.

'Oh, that's fine then. Real smooth' Stanley groaned sarcastically. 'We'd be better with a hologram of ourselves explaining the whole thing.'

'We don't want to scare them,' Brenda urged him. 'Oh, come on, Stanley! He'll be fine! The Wuggles wouldn't like it if we went about broadcasting our identities anyway. Plus, the letter's quite long.' Stanley glanced from Brenda to Madgrid's pleading faces, Brenda's bottom lip wavering cutely.

'Oh, all right!' he sighed. Brenda hugged him.

'Thank you!' she cried before running down the path towards the Dursley's front door.

'On the count of three' she said, placing Harry on the doorstep. 'One... two... three!' They all burst into speed and ran down the road, the annoying chime of the doorbell chasing after them. Madgrid tripped on a crack in the pavement as they neared the corner, thudding onto the road. Brenda shrugged and darted on as Madgrid got to his feet. They all waited in silence before hearing a blood-curdling scream.

'They found Harry' Stanley informed them.

'All right, activate molecular transporters-' she quickly reached for Madgrid's hand '- You share with me. And we go in three... two... one... go!'

There was a blinding blue flash and the three strange people disappeared.


	2. The Vanishing Class

Chapter Two – The Vanishing Class

Nearly ten years had passed since Harry had been dropped off at the Dursleys. The sun shone on the same brass number fourteen, though now it had a large chunk missing off one of the sides. The brass one was also crooked, but anyway, there were still in the same house. There were pictures of Dudley, Mrs. Dursley, Mr. Dursley and Harry standing in front of the entrance to a Magical Theme Park. Harry was looking as disgruntled as ever next to his beaming relatives. Dudley even had his arm on Harry's shoulder. Harry was shoving him away in the picture. It was the last week before the summer holidays where Harry would be advancing to Hogboards, a public wizard's school, whilst Dudley would go to Sweltings, a top class wizard's school. It was going to be Harry who went to Sweltings, but he had insisted, threatening to tell the neighbours about Aunt Flatulence's love affair with the family broom. There were other pictures of the whole family, in which they were always smiling and cheering.

Harry had taken a liking to black as long as he could remember. In every picture he was wearing all black, sometimes with the occasional white sleeved shirt underneath a black t-shirt. Only last year had he bought his first dog-collar choker.

Harry Potter was a lean and skinny boy, with pale skin a mouldy green eyes. He bore large round glasses on his nose with thick black frames. His pitch-black hair was untidy, sticking out in odd places. He spent hours styling it with Potion-Gel, but that somehow made his hair tint green.

Harry Potter was never mistreated, in fact, he got everything he wanted. It was to his disgust that they treated him like a king. Most children would love this attention, like his cousin Dudley, however Harry hated it, and this is what made him unusual. He also had a squiggly line on his forehead, once mistaking it for something Dudley had drawn on his face. Dudley had a broken arm after that and Harry was forced to endure several hours watching Disney movies. He supposed Mr. Dursley had stolen the idea. He lived with his Aunt and Uncle, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Onion.

Well, anyway, that morning, Harry knew, was the beginning hours of Dudley's birthday. Since this was the only day when Dudley could do what ever he wanted, Harry made sure he woke up early. He reckoned his cousin still hadn't forgotten Harry hanging him out of the bathroom window.

'WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!' his alarm clock yelled. Harry, who had been awake for hours, felt like letting the insane screams carry on for a few seconds. He loved terrorising the Dursleys. Mr. Dursley let out a startled yell and Harry smirked, switching off the alarm. He had been dreaming about a man who was talking into a black box. It had been a good dream because the man had also been reading the newspaper.

'Wake up, yer lazy scallywag' the clock growled. Harry ignored it. He went over to his wardrobe and flung open the draws dramatically. Inside there were clothes of only three colours, black, white and grey. It was pretty boring, really, but Harry liked boring. He donned a pair of black trousers and a long sleeved black shirt before slipping a white T-shirts over the top, which had a picture of a spider on it. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he trudged downstairs and started rooting through the cupboards.

'Good morning, Harry' came a cold voice. Dudley, who was usually a little angel and really nice to Harry, must have felt pissed off or something, because he was rubbing his hands together.

'Mornin' Dudders' Harry teased, standing up holding a box of Cheer-i-hoe's; the packet catcalled and strutted around the kitchen table when you'd eaten some of the food.

'Still no signs of magic, then?' he asked. He, along with Harry, had no idea what happened when you could not do magic, but he decided it'd be something terrible. Harry picked up two bowls for him and Dudley before retrieving spoons.

'That's your birthday present' Harry informed him as Dudley sat down.

'What? _Cheer-i-hoes_?' Dudley said, peering into the whistling packet.

'Of course. It's the least I can do and that's exactly why I'm doing it' Harry said. Dudley glared at him.

'Never mind' he growled. Harry smirked behind the Cheer-i-hoes and started to eat quickly.

'We're going to the Zoo today' Dudley said, halfway between his bowl of cereal.

'Yeah?' Harry said, uninterested.

'With my friends from school.' Dudley was a highly popular boy. Harry was anti-social, though he did have many admirers.

'The whole class is coming?' Harry asked in awe. He also asked because there was a girl in their class who was very attractive.

'Yeah' Dudley said. And that was that. Harry sprinted up stairs after eating and got ready, arranging his clothes and hair to be as messed up as possible, though stylishly. He didn't want to have baked beans dripping down his shirt. When the time came for them to go to the Zoo, Harry and Dudley squashed into the back of the Dursley's car.

'You all right back there?' Mr. Dursley asked. Dudley piped up cheerfully whilst Harry just grunted. The rest of the Dursleys were wearing extravagantly colourful robes, Dudley bearing a golden 'Birthday' crown which Harry thought was particularly sad. A man outside the window of the car was wearing a suit. He looked up and waved at Harry, who waved back.

'I had a dream last night' Harry said.

'Yeah? What of?' Mr. Dursley asked.

'That a man was reading the newspaper' he said.

Uncle Onion almost crashed into a lamppost, which jumped out of the way.

'PEOPLE DON'T READ NEWSPAPERS!' he roared. Harry looked absently back.

'All right, keep your hair on' Harry sighed, fiddling with his hair.

At the Zoo, Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time. Within the first five minutes, the Dursleys had buggered off and he was free to do what ever he willed, which involved staring at ugly animals and making faces. The rest of the class at school appeared some time later, when Harry was examining the things inside the reptile house. None other than his crush, Daphne Phillips, soon joined him. Harry knew that Dudley liked Daphne too, but she had come to him... in the reptile room!

'Hi, Harry' she said dreamily. The rest of the class including Dudley scuttled in.

'Hello, Daphne' Harry said. She took his hand in hers quickly.

'Interesting animals, aren't they?' Daphne said. Harry moved forwards. There were sudden yells of outrage and disgust as Harry moved in to kiss Daphne in front of everyone.

'Ignore them, just ignore them' he whispered, as his lips got closer to Daphne's when all of a sudden they were alone. Harry kissed Daphne quickly on the lips and stared around.

'Where'd everybody go?' he asked. He looked back at Daphne who was blushing and shooting embarrassed looks at an invisible crowd.

'Eh?' Harry cried. No one was there. He quickly wandered out of the building. No one was inside the Zoo, until suddenly, a tall young woman with her hair tied back in a bun came over to him.

'You have been admitted in to Hackwords,' she said, handing him an envelope. 'Please inform us if you have any difficulties.'

Then all of a sudden, the image of the woman became distorted and everything, every person and a few things he couldn't see but knew were there swam in to view.

'We're going home' Uncle Onion barked sharply. Harry spun around.

'You kissed Daphne Phillips! She likes me better!' Dudley shouted, ranting on about all the "signals" he'd been getting from her. Harry just rolled his eyes and trudged along behind his Aunt and Uncle. He had already stashed the letter into his pocket and was thinking about it all the way home.

Harry had been an unhappy and anti-social child ever since he arrived at the Dursley's house. He didn't like them, and they sure as hell hated him secretly. He wished he had his own family.

He remembered only one small thing from his childhood, a blinding green light and the reminiscent echoes of Celine Dion. For some reason he hated that music. He supposed this was the music that had been playing in the car when his parents crashed. He couldn't remember a car, though. In fact, he could only remember the music and a flash of green light. However, he couldn't imagine where the green light came from either. There were a lot of things Harry didn't know.

He also showed no signs of magic in him. Dudley started turning things blue when he was four, yet Harry had done nothing. This suddenly reminded him of today. He reached for the letter in his pocket and started to open the letter slowly...


	3. Letters From Everyone

Chapter Three - Letters from Everyone

Harry glanced at the piece of paper blankly. There was nothing written on it. He gasped, then frowned, then started yelling abusive words at the paper. None of these worked. Harry frowned again, fixing the expression on his face so the wiggly line became invisible between his folds of skin.

'Typical' he muttered to himself. That's when he heard Uncle Onion rapping on the door.

'Go away!' Harry barked. The knocking continued.

'Ignore it' he muttered to himself, giving the paper a scathing look before going for the door.

'Harry' Uncle Onion chimed through the door.

'What?' Harry snapped, wrenching the door open.

'There's someone at the door for you' he said. Harry could see the infuriated glint in his eyes he always got whenever he passed. The Dursleys hated him. He knew they did, and no matter how hard they had tried to keep it a secret, they hated him with all their might. Harry took great pleasure in taunting them; testing their limits when things got boring.

'Who?' said Harry testily. Uncle Onion glowered and stormed off. Harry almost skipped down the stairs with glee. When he came to the front door, however, he did not skip or jump, but did more of a sort of yelp mixed with a forward role as he tripped on Dudley's roller skates. Rubbing his sore back, Harry got up steadily, propping himself up on the door-handle. There in front of him was a man dressed in a blue uniform and cap, with a thick bag under his arm. He looked at Harry, who was frowning and looking mildly dazed, then gasped and thrust his bag out before im, kneeling on one foot.

'Oh my' he stammered, removing his cap and keeping his head low.

'Who're you?' asked Harry rudely. 'And what's that bag?' Uncle Onion suddenly came clamouring down the stairs.

'I am Patrick, good sir' the young man said. 'Patrick of the Postal Service. This is the bag I have containing all the letters for you. You are most popular.'

'Patrick of the what?' Harry exclaimed, taking the back cautiously. Uncle Onion started yelling things but the Postal man didn't seem to notice.

'The Postal Service' Patrick repeated. Harry didn't know if it were some kind of a joke or not.

'Right,' he said sceptically. Patrick thrust the bag into his hands as he stood up.

'It was an honour to meet you, Harry Potter' the man said, and ran off down the road. Harry looked at the bulky blue, drawstring bag he was holding in his hands. There seemed to be many letters inside.

Uncle Onion wasn't there when he turned around, nor was he blocking his way to Harry's room. Harry didn't see anyone at all as he closed the door behind him. He sat on his bed for a few minutes, clutching the bag and thinking. Where had they gone? He cast a meaningful glance at the bag at the end of his bed, as if wanting an explanation. The bag sat in silence, allowing Harry to contemplate further.

'You suck' Harry muttered to the bag. The bag's tied end flopped to one side. Harry suddenly found sympathy for the poor bag, and he patted it quietly. He let his eyes drift around the room for a while, pondering on why he didn't open the bag and what he was going to be having for dinner when he saw the letter on the floor. It had writing on it! Amazed, Harry dove for the letter and picked it up. What he saw made him do a double take, fall on the floor and faint. In his hand, still held tightly were four words:

'Welcome to Hackwords Academy.'

When Harry woke up a few hours later, it was early evening. He was lying in his bed, the piece of paper still clutched in his hands, and his head throbbing slightly. He glanced at the words again and felt like fainting, but he knew this would be melodramatic. Harry felt panicky. He was confused. Hackwords? The woman had told him he was in Hackwords, and this piece of paper concluded that fact. The problem was, what was Hackwords?

He dove for the sack of letters and wrenched the bag open. He tipped the contents out and looked at the mass of letters before him. Over one hundred assortments of letters rolled on top of each other. He stared for a few seconds and sat down on the edge of his bed again. He picked up the first one and opened it steadily. A piece of paper was folded inside. He opened it carefully and glanced at the paper and read

_Triple X Action!_

_Enlarge your penis with Mr. Gill's Growth Pills_

_Guaranteed to change your life forever!_

_Buy now and you'll never be lonely again!_

_Only $12.99_

_Buy now!_

Harry stared, before discarding the letter. He picked up the next one cautiously and opened the parchment.

_Get the NEW_

_Hello Kitty Mastercard!_

_You can go anywhere with this baby!_

_Usable in the UK, US and most English speaking countries._

_This card does not allow you to transact money from ATM banks or can it be used in any personal banking accounts._

_The purpose of Hello Kitty Mastercards is to look SUPER COOL!!!_

_And, you can probably get SUPER ONE PLUS bonus at One Hundred Bargain stores near you!_

This was getting ridiculous. He looked at the next one and ripped it open. He pulled the paper out and read through the letter.

_Ug, ug ug, ug, neer uggle ug ug._

_Ug ug SUPER ONE PLUS!_

_Ug grrer nerr ug ug_

_Uggle un neer uggle nrregre blaghed blachen blage._

_Ugg uh gug bleur ugg ug._

_UG HELLO Blagen UG!_

_Kitty's ug, bag blarrgh._

_Ug Ug!_

'Wow, that was informative' Harry said sarcastically. He tossed it aside. Letter after letter contained various bits of junk mail, and the occasional fan mail from various people such as Eloise Backstabber and Harmony Redrum; these of which Harry thought it was better that he didn't know them. Finally, after an hour of Penis Enlargement adverts and a sale at Pizza Shack that July, he came across the two letters he'd been looking for. One had a seal on it; the other had a small stamp on the back. Harry held the letter with the seal on it in his hands. It was thick and heavy. The stamp on the back was that of an eagle and cannon, separated by a diagonal line of corn stacks. He broke the wax carefully and opened the letter.

Hackwords Academy of Non-Magical Technology

Headmistress: Brenda Mumblemore

(Order of Bill Gates, First Class, Grand Hacker, Chief Business Woman, Supreme Technician, Interational Confederation of Muggles)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hackwords Academy of Non-Magical Technology. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your Sender by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Stanley McMonnohawk

Deputy Headmaster

'Eh?' he said, re-reading the letter. He picked up the next one and opened it.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I, Rumnus Madgrid will be collecting you by no later than ten o'clock on Tuesday 30th of July to escort you to Microchip Alley. We will be buying your school things and sending a reply Sender to Hackwords. You will be returned to your home at six o'clock in the evening._

_Yours truly, Madgrid_

_Gamekeeper at Hackwords_

'Well, this makes sense' said Harry, fairly bewildered. He glanced at the calendar hanging on the back of his door. It was the 29th of July...


End file.
